


An Eventful Week

by ohmyfae



Series: Brothel AU [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Sex, Very bad roleplay, will add more characters and pairings as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-17 13:26:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11852526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyfae/pseuds/ohmyfae
Summary: Ignis and Gladio, the respective managers of the top brothels in Insomnia, have finally decided to go on vacation for a week for some well-deserved free time. While they experience the joy of no longer having to do paperwork, Noctis and Prompto have to find a way not to set the brothels on fire before they get back.





	1. Departure

“Ignis.”

Ignis Scientia looked up from the phone stuck to the windshield of his old two-door convertible, and into the eyes of a grim-faced Gladiolus Amicitia. Gladio was wearing a light grey tank top over his leather pants, a pair of sunglasses propped on his forehead, and had the look of a man who’d been trying to get Ignis’ attention for at least three miles.

“You keep checking your texts,” Gladio said, “and I’m gonna switch phones. This is supposed to be a vacation, remember?”

Ignis frowned. Of course. A vacation. It was the first real one he’d taken since he’d become the manager of Shiva’s Secret, one of the top two brothels in Insomnia and the direct rival to Gladio’s own. They’d been planning this getaway for nearly half a year now. Ignis had all the paperwork up to date and properly filed, left a list of backup managers and shift supervisors should Noctis, his second in command, be at a loss, and had given his bouncer Aranea bonus pay to work six nights in a row. Everything should be fine.

So long as Noctis remembered not to let Loqi near the dining area of the café. Hell, he needed to let him know—

“Nuh-uh,” Gladio said, batting his hand away. “Vacation, Ignis. That means no work. No texting Noct. Nothing but lying out on the beach…” He ran a hand up the back of Ignis’ neck, softly petting his hair. “Going windsurfing. Admiring the view…”

“Which one?” Ignis asked, glancing over at Gladio’s bare chest. Gladio grinned.

“There you go,” Gladio said. “You’re already getting into the swing of—“

 _NOCTIS NOCTIS NOCTIS NOCTIS!_

Ignis nearly drove the car into a ditch. Noct must have changed his personalized ringtone again. Now it sounded like Noct and Prompto screaming his name into the speaker between wheezing gasps of laughter. Ignis picked up the phone and turned it on.

“Ignis here,” he said, ignoring Gladio’s reproachful look.

 

On the first floor of Shiva’s Secret, Noctis Caelum leaned back on the chaise he’d dragged downstairs for the night. Chains jingled from his neck, wrists, and ankles, and the sheer gauze that draped over his shoulder to his thighs kept bunching up at the waist. He adjusted it quickly and tried to strike a pose. Cindy, passing by, gave him a thumbs up, and he winked. 

“Hey, Specs,” he said. “Just wanted to check in and see how the vacation’s going.”

“It’s barely started, Noctis.” Ignis sounded testy: He was probably on the road, judging by the wind that kept whistling through the speaker. “Is something the matter at Shiva’s?”

“What? No.” Noct stretched out a leg with a clatter. “Prom’s coming over since Crowe’s in charge at the Flower Shop.” The Flower Shop was Gladio’s brothel, where Prompto worked when he wasn’t moonlighting at Shiva’s with Noctis. “We’re doing a war prize scene.”

“Oh, gods,” Ignis said. “Please remember to use the bruise cream I have in my top drawer.”

“Maybe I like the bruises,” Noct said.

“Do your clients?”

Noct rolled his eyes. “Anyways, I know you’re probably freaking out, so I just wanted to let you know that everything’s fine. Business as usual.”

“Noctis!” Prompto Argentum strode into the room, the wide grin on his face ruining the stern tone of his voice. “You may have been the prince before, but now you will obey _me._ ”

“Shit,” Noct said. “Gotta go.”

“Don’t forget to split the profits!” he heard Gladio shout before the line went dead. Noct stretched out on the chaise, arms over his head, and tried to glare at Prompto. A small crowd was already starting to gather, including a few of their regulars. 

“I take orders from no one,” he said.

“You will tonight,” said Prompto. He was wearing a ridiculous get-up from one of Gladio’s themed nights, all rhinestones and velvet. He placed a knee on the chaise, leaning over Noct, and used the chain attached to his collar to pull him up into a crushing kiss. This was Noct’s favorite part, really, just letting Prompto control the pace of the show. He kissed him back, slow and sweet, before he remembered at the last minute that his character was technically supposed to _hate_ Prompto. He pushed away.

“No,” he said, flinging himself onto the cushions. “I won’t give in!”

“Oh my gods,” whispered a woman from the crowd. 

“You want this, deep down,” Prompto said. He placed his lips over Noct’s ear and whispered, “How’s your first day as manager, buddy?”

“Going okay,” Noct whispered back. “Specs is losing it. No!” he cried, in a louder voice. “You lie!”

Prompto rolled his hips against Noct’s and grabbed him by the hair. “You’re the one lying to yourself,” he snarled. “I _will_ make you remember the truth.”

“But they were best friends last time!” a man said.

“You missed the one after that,” said someone else. “They had a falling out, because the goddess of the hunt made Noctis lose his memories and Prompto got a piece of a mirror in his eye—“

“What? I miss everything!”

Noct bit down a grin, and let out an appreciative moan when Prompto scooted back and parted his thighs. “Wait!” he said. “I think… I remember something… a face. Hands, on my—“

“I know what’ll help you,” Prompto said, and hitched Noct’s legs around his waist. He bent over, pecked Noctis on the lips, and smiled. “You’re doing great, Noct,” he breathed. “You have this week in the bag.”

“Thanks,” Noct said, and groaned loudly as Prompto rolled on a condom and thrust into him, making the chains that fell over the edge of the chaise clatter and clack. The crowd murmured in approval, and on the other side of the chaise, where the onlookers couldn’t see, Prompto reached out and took Noctis’ hand.

 

Gladio threw his bags on the king-sized bed in their rooms at Galdin Quay hotel and bar, and flopped next to them with an almighty creak of springs. 

“Freedom!” he cried.

Ignis snorted and smacked him on the thigh as he passed, setting his own bags carefully on the floor next to the dresser. Gladio watched him fuss over them, hanging up trousers, robes, vests, and well-tailored suit shirts in the closet. “What do you think we’re gonna be doin’ here?” Gladio asked. “Going to an opera?”

“It never hurts to be prepared,” Ignis said. He mentally went through his list of supplies. Extra socks, two pairs of dress shoes, sandals for the beach, far too much hair product than he’d ever admit to using…

“Can’t wait to see what your swimsuit looks like,” Gladio said, and Ignis froze. Fear coiled in his stomach and spiraled outward, turning his blood to ice, and he struggled with containing the horror in his face. Gladio raised his eyebrows. “You… did bring a swimsuit, didn’t you, Iggy?”

Ignis groaned and let his forehead clunk into the closet door.

Thirty minutes and twenty gil later, the two of them were out on the crystal-white sands of Galdin. Waves crashed over squealing children, gulls screeched overhead, clouds scuttled over a perfect blue sky, and Ignis refused to take off his towel.

“Come on, it ain’t that bad,” Gladio said, taking Ignis’ hands in both of his. He glanced down at the bright yellow fabric peeking up over the terry cloth, and his lips twitched. “Honest.”

Ignis tugged the towel loose, and Gladio let out something that sounded suspiciously like a snort. Clinging to Ignis’ legs like the worst sort of plastic wrap imaginable were a pair of swimming trunks in toxic yellow, with a cartoon chocobo head directly over the crotch. 

“Go on,” Ignis said. “Take a look.”

Gladio covered his mouth with a hand, and his shoulders quivered. Ignis gave him a long, frosty stare, grabbed the towel off the ground, and tied it tight around his waist. As he marched off towards the open bar, he could hear Gladio trying to call his name through hitching gasps. 

“I am getting a new lover,” Ignis said, slapping a few bills down on the counter and taking a bottle of liquor from the deeply amused bartender. “And this lover is… banana coconut rum. I’m sure the two of us will be quite happy together in the hot tub, where _you,_ ” he smirked, “and horrendous swimsuits are not invited.”

Gladio’s face fell, and Ignis’ smile broadened. He let his hips sway _just_ a little more than strictly necessary as he ascended the steps to the boardwalk, his new lover in one hand, and his old one stumbling along after him like a lovestruck puppy. 

Oh, yes. Ignis had a feeling he might come to enjoy this vacation after all.


	2. Day Two: Lunafreya Gets Some

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, the youngest child in a line of doctors stretching far down the long annexes of the Nox Fleuret family line, wondered if it was the collective disappointment of her ancestors that weighed her down when she tried to wake up on Tuesday afternoon. Maybe great-great grandmother Stella, the head researcher of the Starscourge vaccine, had slipped away from the manor in Tenebrae and watched over Luna’s shoulder the night before as she skipped through video after video on her phone, trying to learn how to play the banjo in a span of an evening. 

It was Luna’s own fault, really. She’d dropped out of nursing school two years before, much to the dismay of Ravus, who of _course_ was the top military surgeon in Tenebrae, and picked up the piano instead. Her brother had been horrified. Piano lessons were for strengthening the mind and keeping her fingers nimble, he’d said, not for the pursuit of a _career._

Except right now, a career was the last thing Luna wanted to pursue.

She rolled, and the weight on her chest shifted, breaking apart into two bouncing, huffing dogs that flopped on their backs and whimpered. One of them, Umbra, had somehow managed to get into the peanut-butter jar and had it clamped firmly over his nose, and was licking furiously at the bottom. When Luna tried to pry it off, he growled.

“Excuse _me,_ your highness,” she said. Pryna, white as a cloud and snuffling excitedly, wriggled up to Luna’s face and licked her forehead. “Yes, I love you, too.”

She picked her way between her dogs and went to the closet. She had a gig at the Flower Shop again, and she was secretly glad that Ravus wasn’t in town to see. The last time they’d caught each other at one of the brothels on main street, Ravus wouldn’t look her in the eye for _days._ Never mind that Luna had been _working._ Well, mostly working.

Even she had to admit that it was getting a little out of hand. Most musicians weren’t keen on cornering the market at the red-light district, but then again, most musicians hadn’t met Nyx, the tall, dark-eyed man who had taken Luna’s hand at the door on her first night of work, kissed her knuckles, and called her _princess._ They hadn’t met Crowe, either, who kept _winking_ at her all the time, or Libertus, who snuck little sarcastic comments about Nyx that had her trying to keep her composure through a fit of laughter.

Or Pelna, who thoughtfully cleared a space out for her every night she visited. Or…

Luna dug through her closet. The Flower Shop was going for a country theme that night, and banjo or no banjo, Luna didn’t really own anything to wear. All her clothes were a little too… _posh_ to fit the shop. She’d stick out like a sore thumb, and not in the way she wanted to. She checked her clock, and cursed silently. Three hours. Where was she going to find something _country_ in three hours?

At her feet, Umbra thumped the peanut-butter jar into the corner of the wall, shook himself off, and kept walking. She picked up her phone and scanned through her recent contacts. 

Desperate times called for desperate measures. She waited for the phone on the other end to ring, and jumped at the sound of a cheery, deeply accented voice.

“If it ain’t Lady Luna!” Cindy, Luna’s friend of three years and one of the shift supervisors at Shiva’s, sounded like she was in the middle of moving furniture. “You ain’t called me in _weeks,_ sweetheart.”

“Sorry, Cindy,” Luna said. “We’ll catch up, I promise. But right now, I… I may be in need of your help.”

 

An hour later, Cindy sat on the bed of her small apartment at the edge of the red-light district, and ordered Luna to spin. Luna tried, and staggered. Cindy’s skinny jeans were a little tight on Luna’s thighs, and the red shirt she wore hung loose and awkward over her middle. Cindy frowned and shook her head.

“Nuh-uh,” she said. “You stand still.” She stood and started unbuttoning Luna’s top. _Again._ She had a sneaking suspicion that Cindy was getting too much amusement out of treating her like a glorified dress-up doll. 

“Your problem,” Cindy said, “is you don’t know how to work the goods you’ve been given.”

“What?”

“Your tits, baby.” Cindy skipped to her dresser. “Don’t think I don’t see that excuse for a bra. What’re you tryin’ to do, suffocate ‘em? You gotta let those babies breathe. Push ‘em up a little. Ain’t nothing more country than a little self-confidence.”

Luna backed away when Cindy whirled around with a black push-up bra. “Cindy. No, we probably aren’t even the same size.”

“Like hell we ain’t,” Cindy said, relentlessly cheerful. “Slap this on, sister.”

Luna sighed, turned around, and unhooked her bra. She slipped it off, then went through the complicated dance of putting on the push-up bra without having to take off her top. Cindy whistled and applauded when she was done, and Luna flushed pink. 

“Now we’re talkin’,” Cindy told her. She buttoned Luna up—barely—and tied the ends of the shirt so the bow dangled just under her breasts. “Give me thirty minutes, and I can fluff up your hair somethin’ _fine._ ”

 

When Luna left Cindy’s apartment, she had fifteen minutes to make it to the Flower Shop in time for the start of her shift. She hobbled down the sidewalk in Cindy’s brown leather cowboy boots, her jeans so tight that she could feel holes scraping into being between her thighs, and her face warm as a blazing inferno. Twice, she had to stop herself from kicking the boots off and running home barefoot. The only thing stopping her was the banjo slung over her back, which kept banging into her hip every time she sped up.

She turned at the roar of a motor, and nearly jumped out of her skin when a woman all in black leather and flannel pulled up on a massive motorcycle. The handles were shaped like medusas, there was a silver snake wrapped around the bar leading to the front wheel, and a sticker on the side proudly proclaimed, in bright purple font, that “My Other Ride Is A Broomstick.” The woman on the bike lifted the visor of her helmet, revealing the grinning, wild-haired face of Crowe Altius.

“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” she asked. 

Luna gaped, and Crowe’s smile tilted at the edges. 

“You don’t need a ride?” Crowe said. “I have a feeling we’re going to the same place.”

Luna silently thanked years of pointless etiquette classes and flashed Crowe an easy smile. “Yes, thank you. If you don’t mind.”

“Oh, I never mind.” Crowe helped Luna on. Then she unhooked her helmet and fitted it over Luna’s head, and revved the engine. “Hold on tight, princess!”

“Why do you all keep calling meeeaaaaoooh gods!” Luna’s voice rose in an undignified squeal as the bike took off, swerving into afternoon traffic. She clamped her hands around Crowe’s waist, thankful for the dark visor that masked her face, and grinned as they sped down the street. 

“You can stop screaming, baby,” Crowe said after a minute. Luna blinked. They were parked out back of the Flower Shop, the motor was off, and Luna’s arms were still clamped around Crowe like a vise. She fell back, and struggled with the helmet. Crowe took it off for her, and when she smiled, Luna was pretty sure her face turned as red as her shirt.

“Your first time?” Crowe asked.

“For everything, I’m afraid,” Luna said. Crowe laughed and smacked her on the thigh.

“Come on, princess,” she said. “Your audience awaits.”

 

It took two songs for someone to say something.

“Sorry, Luna,” Nyx said, leaning over her chair with his arms draped on either side of her shoulders. “It’s the bagpipe incident all over again.”

Luna frowned. She _knew_ that, like her brother, she had an unfortunate habit of refusing to admit defeat. After dropping out of nursing school, it had only gotten worse. Can’t open a jar of ice cream? Get out Great-Uncle Rom’s hunting knife. Can’t run after Cindy in high-heeled shoes on their way to the movies? Grit your teeth and _will_ yourself through. Can’t think of anything but the way the corners of Nyx’s eyes crinkle when he laughs, or Libertus’ sure hands, or the way Crowe’s mouth parts slightly when she’s in thought?

Learn the banjo, apparently.

“Come on,” Nyx said. “Hands off your weapon.”

“I’m at _work,_ ” Luna said. 

“So are we,” said Nyx. “And honestly, I’m having a hard time telling someone how much cock I can take when you’re butchering The Sex Glaives.”

“That isn’t actually how you get clients, is it?” Luna asked. She stubbornly clamped her hand down on the neck of the banjo as Nyx reached around to peel her fingers off the strings. “It seems a little, oh, _forward._ ”

Nyx gave her a long, steady look. “Luna. I’m a whore.”

Luna flushed pink.

“Don’t listen to him,” said Crowe, swatting Nyx on the shoulder as she passed. She stopped in front of Luna, boxing her in on either side, and lifted Luna’s other hand off the round base of the banjo. “He’s got no class.”

“And you do?” Nyx said. “You? Crowe Watch-How-Many-Chili-Dogs-I-Can-Eat-In-One-Sitting Altius?”

Crowe shot him a dirty glare. “He’s full of shit, princess. Anyways, he’s wrong. It isn’t about how much you can _take._ It’s how much you can _give._ ”

“Okay, that’s enough,” said a gruff voice from behind, and Luna yelped as Libertus swooped in to scoop her out of her chair. Nyx took the opportunity to steal the banjo, and Crowe laughed as Libertus hefted Luna bridal-style in his arms. “You’re both grounded. I’m sorry, Luna. They giving you trouble?”

“No more than usual,” Luna said. “They’re preventing me from doing my job.”

“It’s a public service,” Libertus told her. Luna covered her warm face with both hands and groaned.

“Then what _else_ am I supposed to do?” she asked.

There was a long, thoughtful pause. Nyx hurriedly hid the banjo behind the couch. Libertus and Crowe exchanged knowing looks, and Luna, still held comfortably in Libertus’ grip, lifted a hand to tentatively touch the side of his jaw.

“Oh,” she said, five minutes later, when Libertus gently deposited her on the bed. 

“Oh,” she said, when he kissed her, soft and yearning and too tender to be entirely an act, while Crowe made quick work of Cindy’s jeans. Nyx, kneeling behind her, teased his hands through her hair as Libertus sat up to claim a kiss from _him,_ right over her. Nyx’s hand slipped down to cup Luna’s face, and Libertus’ fingers twined in his. 

“Oh,” she said, when Crowe kissed her inner thigh, blunt nails trailing up her exposed skin. She kissed and licked her way up Luna’s legs. “Oh, _fuck._ ”

“Holy shit,” Nyx said. “Did she _curse?_ ”

Luna tried to glare, but her face went slack as Crowe spread her thighs, running an expert tongue _just_ to the side of where she needed to be. 

“Don’t be a dick,” Crowe murmured, and the hum of her voice made Luna’s eyelids flutter. Nyx brushed a thumb over Luna’s cheek, and Libertus gently tugged and tweaked her nipples with his free hand as he and Nyx kissed again, deep and fierce. Luna’s breath came out ragged, and her mouth opened in an embarrassing whine when Crowe finally, _finally_ circled her clit with her tongue.

Nyx and Libertus broke apart, panting. “I know you like to watch,” Nyx said, in that low, infuriatingly smug voice. “Do you want to see Libertus—“

“Yes,” Luna said, and involuntarily closed her thighs on either side of Crowe’s head. Crowe made a soft, broken noise and pushed her legs back a little. “Yes, that would be—yes.”

“You heard the lady,” Libertus said. He and Nyx disengaged, and Libertus pulled Nyx by the collar towards the side of the bed, right where Luna could get a full look. Nyx crawled after him, smirking, and didn’t even flinch when Libertus tugged at his shirt. Crowe took advantage of Luna’s momentary distraction to crook a finger into her, jerking her into a full-body shudder. Luna closed her eyes tight, gasping, as Crowe brought her to the edge of release—

Then she backed off, removing her finger and kissing Luna’s trembling thighs instead. Luna could barely give voice to the hazy feeling of her climax slipping back into a pleasant warmth, because Libertus and Nyx were kissing again. There was… a lot of kissing going on, she thought. Wasn’t there supposed to be a rule about that? But there Nyx was, naked on the bed, his head a few inches from Luna’s, biting at Libertus’ lower lip as the larger man pulled away. Luna placed a hand on his arm, and Nyx craned his neck back to smile at her. He took her hand, and Luna hissed as Crowe buried her nose in her curls, sucking lazily on her clit. 

“The thing about Nyx is,” Libertus said, holding Nyx’s legs up under the knees, “is he’s kind of a pillow princess.”

“Excuse fucking you,” Nyx said, and his breath stuttered as Libertus entered him in one smooth motion. 

“He likes to pretend he wants a challenge,” Libertus said, “but when you get him alone… I mean really alone, not on the job, he’s lazy as hell.” He tugged at Nyx’s nipples as he thrust in so hard and deep that Nyx rocked back on the bed. Nyx closed his eyes, and Luna squeezed his fingers. 

Then Crowe did something with her tongue that had Luna seeing stars, and it was all she could do to keep her own eyes open. 

When Crowe had made her dazed and languid with two of the most spectacular orgasms Luna had experienced in her life, Luna had forgotten the remaining shreds of her Nox Fleuret dignity. She beckoned Nyx, and he kissed her neck and whispered into her ear as he rocked into her. Crowe was massaging her breasts, Libertus was at her back, his nose in her hair, and when Luna came again, arms shaking around Nyx’s shoulders, she didn’t know whose name to call. 

“Damn, princess,” Nyx said, as Luna fell back into Libertus’ hold for the second time that night. “We should’ve done this months ago.”

“Yes,” Luna drawled. “You should have.”

“I love how your accent gets thicker when you’re all fucked out,” Crowe whispered, and Luna smiled into her light, fleeting kiss. She wanted to lie there forever, enveloped in the warmth of them, the pleasure of their touch, the sound of their easy chatter rolling over her like a wave. She wanted—

“Oh, no,” she said. “I’m so sorry, I forgot. How much do I—“

The others exchanged uneasy looks.

“Probably should’ve talked to her first,” Libertus said.

“You think?” asked Crowe. Luna furrowed her brows. She wasn’t certain how well the part of her brain dedicated to critical thinking could function. “Luna. Baby. This isn’t really… We didn’t wanna do this for work.”

“Pardon?”

“We’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now,” Nyx said, “but I guess it’d look pretty weird from an outside perspective. We’re sort of… a… a thing. The three of us.”

Luna’s mind swam out of the sea of pleasure and onto a vast, unknown shore. “Ah.”

“And we were thinking,” Crowe said, “if you wanted to. Maybe it could be, I don’t know, the four of us.”

Luna remained silent for a minute. “Are you… _all_ of you… asking me _out?_ ” she asked.

“Well, sure,” said Libertus. “We should’ve wined and dined you in the first place. If you don’t want to, though, that’s okay. We aren’t gonna—“

“Yes,” Luna said, eyes bright with the fires of her family’s fine, respectable traditions going up in smoke. “Yes, gods. I would _love_ to.”

“Tell us again when you see what Crowe can do to a chili dog,” Nyx said. “I won’t blame you if you want to back out after tha—fuck, Crowe!” He went rolling off the bed, dragging Crowe down with him, and Luna laughed, sinking into Libertus’ arms.

She couldn’t _wait_ to tell Cindy about _this._


	3. Loqi Tummelt Gets Everything He Wants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we have Ignis/Gladio, a tiny bit of Prompto/Noctis, AND Loqi/Cor in this chapter!

Gladio and Ignis’ hotel room was wreathed in fragrant steam, which stuck to the wallpaper and caused fat drops of water to go trickling down the sliding glass door. Damp footprints traced a path from the outside balcony to the bed, which was draped in garish blue and green towels, then off towards the bathroom, where crushed flower petals wilted in the heat from the massive whirlpool tub. Ignis lay amid a heap of bubbles like a reclining god out of an old painting, his skin gleaming, feet propped up on Gladio’s lap. Gladio watched him from across the tub and picked a chocolate-covered strawberry off a tray behind him. 

“Don’t forget,” Ignis said. “The payroll forms need to be submitted tomorrow, so you’ll need to make sure that the café manager has her numbers right. Yes, yes, she should have put it in the in-tray in the back office of the café.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow as Gladio slowly bit into the strawberry, making soft sounds of delight. He shifted, and the mountains of bubbles on either side of him swayed. 

“Cindy says her client has a special deal to do foursomes,” Noct said, on the other end of the line, “but she always overcharges.”

“Well, so long as she overcharges, once every three months is fine.” Ignis shook his head when Gladio sloshed towards him, bearing a strawberry, but the man gave him such a _look_ that he opened his mouth obediently and took a bite. “How’s… pardon. How are things with Prompto?”

“Oh.” Noct’s voice took on a light, airy tone, and Ignis narrowed his eyes, certain that the next words he spoke would be a lie. “Fine. Things are fine. I, uh. Had to cancel our date today, because paperwork.”

“I daresay your romance will survive, Noctis. Thank you for taking on this respons—“ Ignis blinked and clamped his mouth shut as Gladio parted his legs. “I’m certain you will rise to the occ—“ Gladio slipped under the surface, and Ignis jerked at the familiar sensation of Gladio’s lips parting over the head of his cock. “I, ah, believe you’ll be fine.”

“… Everything okay, Specs?” Noct asked. Gladio rose out of the water, shedding bubbles, and bore Ignis’ legs up with him. Ignis gripped the back of the tub so as not to fall in. 

“Yes, of course. Everything’s fine,” Ignis said, and closed his eyes as Gladio bent down, running a tongue up his length. “I’m…”

“Is that water?”

“I’m in the bath.”

“You asshole.” Noct’s voice was fond, and Ignis smiled for all of a moment before Gladio swallowed him down. He dropped the phone off the edge of the tub, bit down on his wrist to muffle a shout, and held on with his free arm.

 

“Ignis? _Ignis?_ ”

In Ignis’ bedroom and office in the upper floor of Shiva’s Secret, Noctis pushed aside his calculator and turned off the desk fan, trying to understand what Ignis was saying over the slap of water and the squeak of something on tile. Someone was… humming? Was it Gladio? Was _Gladio_ in the room with Ignis while he…

“Specs,” Noct said, in a despairing tone. “Tell me you aren’t getting _fucked._ ”

“Hey, Noct!” The door slammed open, and Noct nearly fell out of Ignis’ chair. Prompto stood in the door, looking like an angel sent from one of the better class of heavens in a ratty band shirt and a choco-moogle hat from the diner in the lower city. In one hand he carried a paper bag stained with grease, and in the other were two plastic packages filled with multicolored cloth. He winked at Noct, but his cheery grin faded when he saw the tight grip Noct had on the phone.

“Dude,” he said. “Is something up?”

“Yeah,” Noct croaked. “I think something is.” He set the phone down on the desk, and pressed the speakerphone button. There was a soft hush of water, then a low moan that was unmistakably Ignis.

“Gladio,” Ignis said. “Gladio, if you would stop teasing and _fuck_ me.”

“ _Dude,_ ” Prompto squeaked, and dropped the clothes. He set the food bag reverently on the end table and draped himself over Noct, staring at the phone. “They aren’t really…”

“They are,” Noct said, just as there was another squeak, and a harsh gasp of breath.

“Gods, I can’t wait to have you fucked open on the bed,” Gladio said, and Prompto’s hand clamped down on Noct’s shoulder. “Begging in that gorgeous voice of yours.”

“I never beg,” Ignis said. 

“Really? What was that just now?” There was another gasp, and the sound of water sloshing against tile picked up, along with the squeaking that _had_ to be a hand clenching on the edge of a tub or a tiled wall. Prompto shook Noct’s shoulder and grinned, and Noct shifted uncomfortably, not sure whether to be mortified or turned on. 

“Yes,” Ignis said. “Yes, Gladio.”

“Be as vocal as you want, baby,” Gladio said, and Noct pushed the chair back into Prompto’s gut as Ignis let out a cry so lewd it was probably illegal. He scrabbled for the phone, turned it off, and looked over his shoulder at Prompto, who was hopping on one foot and clutching his stomach in both hands.

“Sorry, man,” he said. “Thanks for coming by with lunch, but I… I think I’m gonna have to take a shower, or—“ He yelped as Prompto grabbed him by the collar, pulling him up into a kiss. “Hey, we got work tonight.”

Prompto smiled into Noctis’ mouth. “Sure,” he said, “but we gotta break in these new assassin robes somehow.”

 

\---

 

Loqi Tummelt, the second son of Verstael Besithia and Loren Tummelt and all-around failure as a human being, slammed down the lid to the dish sanitizer and stepped away from the sink. 

He knew he should have been grateful for the job. After he was discharged from the military—Never mind that what _they_ called a heart condition was just a minor inconvenience to someone of Loqi’s breeding—he’d been set loose on the world, groundless and lost, to make his way on his own in the streets of Insomnia. Of course, he understood that he had it _much_ better off than his older brother, wherever he ended up. Adopted out to some friends of the family, he’d been told. For a while, Loqi had considered tracking him down, but in a city the size of Insomnia, it was practically impossible. 

And so, with no recourse left to him, Loqi had ended up in the one place a member of his household would never lower themselves to so much as visit: The Chosen Man, the worst so-called brothel in Lucis. It wasn’t exactly the best year of his life. He figured that his lost brother, off with the… Argeniums? Argentums? He figured _he_ likely had the better end of the deal. Certainly, he’d been disowned young, found wanting in some way by their exacting father, but at least he wasn’t…

Well.

When Ignis Scientia had come by when the owner was away in a bid to buy out the contracts of those working there, Loqi hadn’t exactly been in a position to say no. So he agreed, and there he was, washing dishes in a café while the people who worked the first and second floor got to make enough tips to get _out._ To build themselves up. Make a name for themselves, even if that name wasn’t Besithia.

Loqi put the next tray of dishes on the long steel table in front of the sanitizing equipment, then untied his apron. He had about a thirty minute window before the next rush hit, if he was careful. He shoved his apron under the sink and slipped out the front, unpinning his name tag and hiding it in the front pocket of his trousers.

In the café, a few scattered customers were laughing and talking over plates of delicate pastries. Loqi skirted around the dining area and passed through into the front room where the escorts were, and rolled his eyes. Noctis and his boyfriend—Promp? Prom?—were doing one of their live-action pornos again. The blonde was dressed in so many belts, swathes of fabric, and leather collars that he _should_ have looked halfway decent, but at best he was halfway clothed. He was being pinned by Noctis, who was wearing a white robe with a hood and a bright red sash. He grabbed Noctis by the arm and kicked him to his back in a move that was almost textbook military. Loqi stopped to stare.

“And so the assassin becomes the assassee,” the blonde said. No, Loqi decided. Not worth it after all. He turned from them, ignoring the crowd of fans who hung on Noctis and his boyfriend’s every word, and slipped out the front door. 

If he was being honest with himself, Loqi would have admitted that he wasn’t actually going out for air. No one needed to walk four blocks just for _air,_ not when the red light district was so full of smog anyways. No, Loqi had only one reason to be out, and that reason was Cor Leonis.

Cor. Cor the Immortal. Cor the _Marshal,_ the youngest commanding officer in the history of the Lucian military. He was the man Loqi had dreamed of besting when he was young, sweating his way through hour after hour of hand-to-hand combat practice and military tactics from his tutors back home. He was the one officer who hadn’t been there on the day Loqi signed up, despite the fact that he’d _moved_ just so the office where he was swearing in was in the same building as the Marshal’s. And then, right after Loqi was kicked out in disgrace, Cor had retired. 

Only to appear a few years later, working the door at one of the higher class brothels in town. 

It was unfathomable to Loqi. What happened to him? Why had he retired in the first place? Was it an injury? The stress? The effects of war? Loqi had passed the man by at least thirty times since he started working at Shiva’s, and he just couldn’t get a read on him. 

This night was no different. Cor stood outside the door, checking IDs and speaking shortly to regulars, dressed simply in a black shirt and pants. His short-cropped hair was still brown, not yet greying—though he couldn’t be more than forty-five, and that wasn’t _so_ old. Young enough for his face to still carry that chiseled jawline Loqi had examined in his late teens, poring through his books of military heroes. Young enough to look like a goddamned _movie_ star when he smiled, which was so rare that Loqi had only seen it twice. 

Gods, he _hated_ Cor. That’s what it had to be. The man had spent the best parts of his life in the military, where Loqi couldn’t go, and had left on his own. What possessed him? How could he stand there, so, so tall, so straight-backed, so fucking self-assured?

“Hey.” 

Loqi froze. Cor was staring at him, leaning against the wall. The line of people at the door were stopped by a velvet rope, trapped until the brothel emptied out a little, and a few of them glanced Loqi’s way. 

“Hey, kid.”

“I’m not a _kid,_ ” Loqi said, striding towards him. Cor shrugged. Gods, he even _shrugged_ like an asshole. 

“Okay, hey, you.” Cor smiled again, and something hot and terrible churned in Loqi’s stomach. “You’ve been passing this place for months now, but you never go in. Working up the nerve?”

Loqi scowled. “I have plenty of nerve, _Cor Leonis._ ”

Cor didn’t so much as blink. He gazed down at Loqi, as though he were judging him, testing to see if he was worthy. Loqi found himself unconsciously straightening to attention. 

“Hm.” Cor crossed his arms. “So you’ve heard of me.”

“Who hasn’t heard of Cor the Immortal?”

Cor huffed. “That’s a name I’d rather leave behind, but fine.” He turned his probing gaze to Loqi’s eyes, and Loqi felt his blood turn to ice. “I’m off at zero-one-hundred.”

Loqi let out a long, agonized breath. “Good to know,” he said, and turned on his heel. 

 

At two-fifteen in the morning, Loqi Tummelt, son of Verstael Besithia, brother to an abandoned stranger, dishonorable son to an honorable line, wrapped his legs around Cor the Immortal’s waist and dragged his nails down his arms. Cor was holding him down with one hand, his fingers ghosting over Loqi’s neck, and he was thrusting into him with the slow, inexorable care of a lover. 

“I can take more,” Loqi said, and his eyes widened as Cor’s hand shifted, and a stubbled cheek brushed against his own. Cor kissed him high on the neck, and Loqi couldn’t help himself—He whined, trying to rock himself up as Cor sank into him, and ran a hand over Cor’s short hair. 

“Do you _want_ more?” Cor asked, and Loqi was more than a little pleased to find that his voice was ragged, all panting breath and cracked lips. 

“Yes,” Loqi said. “Yes, of course I do, of c—“ he wailed as Cor abruptly picked up the pace, pounding into him, the sheets rucking up under Loqi’s ass as he was pushed back on the bed. Cor reached for him, but Loqi intercepted him, stroking himself out of time with Cor’s thrusts and moaning so loud that he was probably waking half the neighborhood. Cor ran a thumb over his lips, and Loqi bit down on it, taking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the digit. He looked into Cor’s eyes then, and the expression Cor made was almost _soft._

“You’re something else, Loqi,” he said. 

_Fuck you,_ Loqi thought, and came, moaning thickly, mere seconds before Cor found his own release. 

Loqi was all set to leave for home right away, but Cor made him tea first, and Loqi was raised to respect a host’s hospitality. He sat naked in Cor’s bed, pressed up against his bare chest, gripping a mug of tea in both hands. 

“We should do this again,” Cor said. He dragged a sheet over their legs, blissfully cool from disuse. “If you’d like to.”

“I—“ Loqi stopped, an acerbic remark dying on his tongue. “I suppose I might. Like to, that is.”

“Good.” Cor sipped his own tea. “Tomorrow’s my day off. We can go to dinner—My buddy Weskham runs a restaurant on the water.”

Loqi frowned, running a finger over the edge of his mug. “I’m working,” he said, “but I bet I can get out of it. Noctis—He’s running the place while Mr. Scientia’s gone—He’ll be too distracted by his boyfriend to notice.”

“Oh, yeah,” Cor said. “Prompto… Argentum, right? He’s a good kid.”

Loqi choked on his tea, coughing scalding liquid out of his lungs. He doubled over, and Cor placed a hand on his back until he had his breathing under control. When he could speak again, Loqi turned to him.

“Did you say _Argentum?_ ”


End file.
